


Wild Goose Chasing (FFoZ S1E8)

by J_Shute



Series: The Fantastic Foxes of Zootopia [11]
Category: Fantastic Mr. Fox, Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Exploration, Fantastic Mr Fox lives in Zootopia, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hunters & Hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 18:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21040787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Shute/pseuds/J_Shute
Summary: Trying to bond with his son, Mr Fox takes Ash on a mission. Deal with a wild goose that is causing mischief and mayhem. It sounds easy enough, but looks can be deceiving and, with major news, major objections and major insecurities, the wild wildlife might be the least of their worries.Episode 8 of Fantastic Foxes of Zootopia (But can be read on its own)





	Wild Goose Chasing (FFoZ S1E8)

**Author's Note:**

> For those just joining, Fantastic Foxes of Zootopia is my Zootopia-Fantastic Mr Fox-Aggretsuko + mega crossover series. After previously seeing a day in the life of Ash and Kris, we're now following the former on an excursion with his father. Pre-reading everything else is advisable, but, if you want to start with this one, all you need to know is that Mr Fox lives in Zootopia and there's recently been a scare about nighthowlers returning.

**AN: After the smaller chapters of ‘The Bin and the Badge’, here’s a nice meaty one-shot for you, filled with some much needed father-son bonding for your enjoyment.**

**Major Kudos to the awesome Giftheck, who proofed this on short notice, alongside my regular proofer Dancou Maryuu. Make sure to check out their fic’s ‘Futures Past’, ‘Battle of the Kings’ and ‘Zeeplabor’.**

.

**Wild Goose Chasing. ** (FFOZ S1E8)

**.**

.

“One sugar or two sugars, dear?”

“Have I ever tended to go for the two sugars, Darling?” Mr Fox asked in his deep and charismatic voice. Frederick ‘Foxy’ Fox, newspaper columnist, ex-ranger, and part time pest controller for the smallest and most vulnerable members of Zootopian society, alongside the most squeamish, casually responded to his wife’s question as he poured out some Lucky Chomps into a bowl. His son’s cereal, but not the younger tod’s bowl.

He did the usual, all bowls belong to everyone, routine in that regard.

“Then I’ll put in one,” his wife noted. Dressed in her yellow sundress, she wore an apron as she prepared his hot drink on the worksurface behind him. The latter item of clothing was mainly there for her painting, taking place after he had left for the day, but it also leant her an air of domestic authority.

“Or how about two,” Mr Fox noted. “I’ll be taking a high energy journey today, with a lot of potential variables. Sudden quick thinking and movement might be required, and the added glucose in my bloodstream might…”

He casually shut his trap as a steaming mug was slid underneath him, his nose easily smelling the double teaspoons put into the little refreshment. He’d heard the ringing of the silver spoon on its rim too, two little clinks that had sung out, and the quick taste of the tea made sure in the third and final way that his request had been met. He smiled at the goodness of it all, this day getting off to a good start and everything, and he couldn’t help but spare his beautiful wife of fourteen years a long look, savouring her as the light filtered in through the windows and illuminated her.

“Perfectly and doubly sweet,” he said suavely. “Just like you.”

…

“…I don’t like this.”

“Don’t like what?”

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as a frosty glare was thrown down onto Mr Fox, ordering him to cut it all out and get to the point. Before he could, though, Mrs Fox broke it as she turned away. Huffing a little, she grabbed a chair and sat down next to him. Staring into him. Lines of concern and worry were etched into her face, and her eyes would flick away, breaking contact here and there. When she finally spoke, she muttered it out. “I don’t like the whole idea of this…”

“It’s not even a carnivorous bird this time, Darling. It’s not as if it’s going to eat anyone,” Mr Fox began. He felt a trickle of sympathy for how she felt, he could see it in her, and knew how the worry could niggle and burrow into her mind. However, he mainly felt justifiably relaxated, along with a desire to be able to fly free and just do this, given that he knew his own abilities in relation to what she worried about. He knew he’d be fine. They’d be fine. Nothing was going to happen. It was entirely safe. “I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. Nothing is going to happen. It’s one-hundred percent safe.”

“You say that, and I know it,” she said slowly but surely, as her paws slowly found their way into his. He felt them grip a bit tighter, as she spoke onwards. “But I can’t help but worry… I almost lost him once, Freddy!”

He gulped. There was that thing again. That icy little spear of fear that could chill him as much as her. That dreadful ‘he almost’, ‘what if’, ‘could he…’ He closed his eyes, his head tilting down as he remembered that erupting rage and fury in the aftermath of that lucky failure. The pain he hadn’t known was there. Almost never knew. Just like he still didn’t know a lot of things about his own boy. He needed to know him more, he reminded himself, as he looked up again. “Which is why I’m following Dr Lupulelli’s suggestions, remember?” he stated. “It’s this kind of thing that…”

“-Just be safe,” she interrupted sternly, cutting him off. He let off a lazy smile, nodding his head, while she looked on firmly.

“Understood.”

“And don’t forget the elephant in the room,” she said, taking in a steadying breath. "Don’t forget that we’re running out of time.”

“Felicity, darling,” he said, his most charismatic and relaxed voice taking over as he felt the creep of nerves return, hidden underneath. “I will take every possible measure to make sure that that doesn’t happen.” He turned to his desk, moving aside the bowl of lucky chomps and scanning around for anything and everything to prove that point. His eyes rested on his phone, a recently popped up reminder about today’s job standing out. “For instance,” he began, picking up the phone as he did so. He held it in his paw for a few moments, an ear twitching slightly, before he quickly put it down and grabbed a piece of newspaper from the table. Tearing off one of the margins, he scribbled down ‘Remember the elephant in the room’ and placed it in his shirt’s chest pocket.

He felt pretty proud of himself, and gave a quick double whistle and double click, sounding out his 'trademark' as he looked back at her. At first his eyes rested on her stomach, lingering there before rising, past her bosom and then over the top of her apron itself and into her eyes. 

She was smiling, and that meant he was smiling too. 

He felt like he was glowing, and she looked like she was too.

“Stay safe,” she said, giving him a quick peck on the nose, before she stood up and walked off. Mr Fox shrugged and pushed his son's cereal away, before grabbing his own. He poured himself a bowl of malted flakes, adding some sugar, pouring the milk in, before starting to shovel it down him with a predatory fury. As he did so, he heard some creaking, followed by some speaking above him in the lounge. Taking another bite of his cereal, he heard the movement shift and, looking over at the stairs, saw his son emerge.

Dressed up in a full camo outfit, which seemed to be an old tracksuit and a running hoodie which he’d sponge-painted in various shades of green, Ash jogged in place before jogging over to the table, setting himself down at his waiting bowl. “We’re gonna do this,” he said, confidently.

Mr Fox smiled, feeling confident about it, even if some worries and doubts were creeping in. “Ash. We are most certainly going to be doing this.”

A look of determination came across the younger fox’s face and together, father and son, the pair began their day with a ruthless and crazed feeding frenzy on their breakfast meal. After that, it was time to get going.

.

.

“The bike can’t be broke… It can't be broke… It’s broke, isn’t it?”

“Not sure,” Mr Fox noted, as he pulled it out. It had started, began sputtering, and then died. His attempts to revive the trusted vehicle proved less and less successful on each attempt, much to his son’s concern. Still, nothing a bit of diagnostics couldn’t fix. “Though I am confident. We’ve been having some issues with leaks, maybe the air filter is saturated.” He paused, thinking, as he looked over to Ash. “Mind getting me some tools?”

He nodded and rushed off, Mr Fox watching him as he went. “Not that way,” he advised. “The other way… No, the other…”

Coming back, Ash set a small toolbag beside his father, who then took some, moving over to the bike. The younger fox, taking out his cassette player, looked through the small collection of tapes he’d packed in his bag and put a new one in. Pressing play, some twangy country guitars played out, before the singing picked up.

_ ‘Well I left Kentucky back in ‘49, _

_ To Deertroit working on assembly line… _

_ The first year they had me putting wheels on Camelacs…’ _

“Inspired choice,” Mr Fox congratulated.

“Thanks,” Ash replied, before pausing. “So, you said there was a problem with the air filter?”

Mr Fox nodded, as he found the cover over it and began taking it off. “Yes, just need to…”

“What... -exactly, does it do?”

Mr Fox looked up at him. Normally he’d just make the fix quickly and easily, a potential flourish at the end. Explaining the details hadn’t really occurred to him.

But Ash seemed interested, so he guessed it would be best to explain everything as he went through. Scratch that, he needed to. It was his son asking about this after all, and he’d been almost happy to brush him off, something he secretly felt the tiniest little niggle about. He needed to improve there. He may have been fantastic, but things like that showed that he could easily not be. Something he had to change, for everyone’s sake.

“Well,” he began, as he took the cover off and grabbed the filter. “It’s to stop dust and stuff getting into the engine with the air.” He paused, then chucked the small thing at Ash, watching as he caught it.

“It’s soaked,” he said, weighing it in his paws.

“Petrol,” Mr Fox explained, as he got up onto the bike again. “Leaking out, clogging up and stopping air getting to the engine. Now though…”

He pushed down hard to start the engine, only to shake a bit as the starter pedal failed to even go all the way down. The bike didn’t even make a choked splutter anymore, just a light trickle.

“Petrol leaking,” Ash pointed out. “Onto the floor. I think we found what soaked the air filter.”

Hopping off the bike, Mr Fox looked at it for a few seconds before looking at the engine. “Ash, can you lift the rear wheel up?” Ash quickly complied, and Mr Fox put the bike in gear and tried turning the rear wheel, smiling a little as it jammed. “Small spanner,” he requested, Ash handing one over.

“Socket wrench.”

Ash handed one over, Mr Fox busily at work.

“Allen keys…”

Grabbing it, he did the last few twirls and, with a confident smile on his muzzle, he removed the top of the engine. Both cylinders were exposed, and he gave a few disapproving tut’s as he saw the petrol pooled in them. “There’s your problem.”

Ash knelt down next to him and looked in. “Is there something in the petrol?”

“It  _ is _ the petrol.”

“...That doesn’t make sense.”

“Too much you see,” Mr Fox said. “A faulty and damaged carburettor, worn down by years of hard use, leaked into the filter and engine.”

“That still doesn’t make sense. Fuel… Engine… You want one, in the other…” He paused, thinking, before looking up to his father and giving a shrug.

“You need fuel in the air, but not too much that there isn’t enough air,” he explained, before pointing to the bike. “Mind lifting it up again?”

Ash complied and Mr Fox moved the wheel around, making the cylinders go up and down, pushing the fuel out of them. “Mind getting a rag?” he asked, as Ash went over. He grabbed it, balled it up, and tossed it over, almost taking Mr Fox by surprise. He still caught it, one pawed and with confidence, before using it to dry out the cylinder. “Flooded cylinders means there’s not enough air, which is just as bad as not enough fuel.”

Ash nodded. “That makes sense now.”

“And there was so much that the pistons got jammed on the way up.”

“That also makes sense.”

“Yes it does,” Mr Fox replied, as he began putting the engine back together. “Good throw by the way. You’re good at that.”

Looking up, he noticed Ash’s mouth starting to curl up in a grin.

“I mean, that’s a whackbat thrashing pitch right there.”

He paused, suddenly not sure if he’d screwed up or not, as Ash’s ears pulled back. One of his lower fangs slipped out, giving his upper lip a slight chew, as he glanced away, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah…” He said awkwardly. “Thanks.”

Mr Fox closed his eyes. This could be something very bad, burning under the surface. “Ash, You okay?”

Ash nodded, his eyes narrowing a little as a slight attitude entered his voice. “Just a bit salty.”

Mr Fox guessed that was understandable, what with how Kris’ arrival had thrown him off the school team that he’d drilled and practiced to be on for years, the same team he himself was a prized member of back in his youth. “That was still a good pitch though…”

“My pitches were my best thing,” Ash said, a slight edge to his voice. “I was just a slower runner though,” he said, looking away bitterly. “Kris was also a better batter and catcher too.” He huffed sadly. “Way better...”

Mr Fox sighed. At the end of the day his nephew was taller, leaner, faster and stronger than his son, much so, and those were things that really clicked with him. That had impressed him, alongside many of the other great things about the young Tod who they’d looked after during his father's recovery... Things that had grabbed his attention and praise in a way that his actual son, however much he loved him, hadn’t done.

Something he hadn’t realised caused so much anger and grief until…

“--Ash,” he called, “mind grabbing some string?”

Flinching slightly from the sudden command, Ash nodded and then retrieved some. Mr Fox mounted the bike, put it into neutral, and fired up the engine. It started, kicking out a cloud of smoke, before roaring on. A piece of string around the accelerator to keep it running, Mr Fox then turned his attention to the air filter. Placing it back on and sealing it up, the air draw was now more than enough to pull through it, so he let the thing be, hoping to make sure it could run for a little bit without anything going wrong. “That should help dry the filter too,” he said, glancing back at Ash as he nodded in agreement. He paused, thinking, before deciding to do something with that time.

He’d sworn to not take his son for granted again, and he meant it.

…

Some tin cans were lined up at the edge of the property, ready and waiting as Ash aimed at them with an air rifle. One eye closed, the other lining up, he fired, the small pellet bouncing off the ground and into it with a slight  _ ping. _

“That was a hit,” Ash gasped slightly, before a wide grin grew on his muzzle. “That was a hit!”

Mr Fox nodded. “Sort of, you aimed just a bit too low. Try raising it a bit.”

Ash nodded. “I didn’t really think about how far it’d go down,” he said, pulling the gun open. He slipped another pellet in, clicked it closed, and then aimed.

_ Ping… _

He smiled and looked up to his father.

Mr Fox looked back, both proud and happy. “There you go, you’re good at that.”

Ash nodded, as he aimed and fired at another can, scoring another hit.

“Anyway,” Mr Fox led on, “the bike should be ready now. Shall we?”

Firing off the last pellet, hitting a can, Ash stood up and handed his father the gun. “We’re using that today, right?”

His father nodded. “Feral geese today.”

“So not a barn owl or anything?”

“No,” his father said.

“Well that’s okay,” Ash remarked with a shrug. “I’m okay helping only helping out with the safer ones. As long as I’m helping.”

“Oh,” Mr Fox mused, “we might get a barn owl sooner or later. Or something bigger. A hawk, or an eagle. Something we can save the helpless rodent populations from!”

Ash tried to resist, but through his angsty shell a slight smile and guffaw escaped. “Yeah,” he said. “Might help out Kris and you against those dangerous ones.”

Mr Fox paused. A lot of Ash’s therapy had been about avoiding comparing himself so much to his gifted cousin, taking value in his achievements by themselves as opposed to against Kris'. All good, but there was sometimes the feeling that the young fox was taking that as accepting that he’d always play second fiddle. “You should stop underselling yourself you know,” he pointed out. “Aim higher.”

“Right,” he agreed. “I might help you and Kris take out the most dangerous bird of prey there is.”

Mr Fox rolled his eyes as they got back to the bike. “Not what I was thinking,” he said, as he got on. “But if it comes to that, I’m sure you’ll be fantastic at it.” He did a few last checks before looking down at his son. Ash had settled into the sidecar, the tool bag by his feet in case of another mechanical incident, and together they set off.

They made a quick detour to pick up Kylie, an opossum who worked as Mr Fox’s trusted assistant, before they pulled up at their client.

It was a rodent scaled country club in the Rainforest District, with a great clubhouse and expansive grounds, all of which the larger mammals towered over. Waiting outside was a twitchy looking mouse, who was staring at them impatiently. “Mind explaining the delay?”

“Engine problems,” Mr Fox announced, as he hopped off, patting the bike. “The old girl needs a new carburettor, and you need some geese removal.”

“Yes,” he agreed with a groan, gesturing over to the forest behind him. “The entire Enchanted Grotto is off limits. An entire acre of my land! Do you know how many customers that place usually entertains?”

“A lot, I think,” Kylie said, meekly raising his paw.

“One,” the mouse stated. “My best paying one, who is due to get here later today with his family, and who won’t be happy to find a creature hundreds of times his weight marching around! I already dread to think about the damage made to much of it…” He paused, before giving them a glare. “I also want no more damage to my Grotto, so you’ll stick to the paths for larger mammals.”

“I positively guarantee no extra damage to your premises,” Mr Fox said confidently.

“Right,” the mouse said, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. He glanced at Mr Fox’s odd crew as if to confirm his point, before a sudden shriek caused him to wince down in irritation.

“ _ MONSTER!!!!!”  _ it cried, as a mouse in a hippy like costume ran towards him, a protest sign in her paws.

“Excuse me,” the proprietor began, turning to face her. “I’m…”

“About to get exterminators to kill an innocent creature just trying to live its life,” she shouted, as she walked up into his face. “You are a cruel heartless monster, you know that? You’re a brute! A monster! A savage…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t use the  _ S  _ word when we have some preds nearby, especially with the recent news.”

She paused, blinking at him a few times, before scoffing. “Seriously? Trying to get the moral high ground? They know it wasn’t meant like that, and you only used it as you wanted to look down at me, even though you’re about to have blood on your paws.”

He grumbled slightly. “Better than all the literal crap that’s been piling up all over my property,” he muttered, before glancing up at the foxes and waving them on. The protestor, spotting them, turned and raced after them.

“Please think about what you’re about to do! Please reconsider…”

Mr Fox smiled. “Given the delectable things my lovely wife can do with these troublesome geese, my reconsideration is telling me to go forth and hunt,” he said proudly, giving his trademark double whistle and click as he stepped over the boundary fence and into the club itself.

The mouse looked at him, her mouth hanging open in shock. “But… But…”

Kylie went next, the opossum briefly giving her a glance and a shrug. “If it’s anything, I’m more here for the eggs,” he said, almost apologetically as he joined Mr Fox. She then turned to see Ash.

“Do you really want to do this?” She asked, as if he were being coerced into it.

Ash paused, looking down at her for a few seconds, before giving her a shrug. “Yes,” he said, as he stepped over too.

“Gah…” the mouse gasped. “But think about the geese!”

“I am,” he said, walking away. “Slow cooked to tender them up and then put in a curry. I like goose curry. Yummy scrummy goose curry.”

Blinking a few times, a determined look grew on her face. She didn’t call them savages back then, but they and the owner were dead set on being ones now and, if that was the case, she’d have to step up her game. She looked around, a plan forming in her head, before she charged off into the distance.

.

.

Beneath the roof of rainforest leaves and in between the towering tree-towers, the enchanted grotto was a maze of massive primeval ferns and bracken, interspersed with rocks and plants of all types. Flowering vines wound their way up the larger plants, adding spears of colour everywhere. Sculpted water features, ponds, and glowing blown glass sculptures were artfully placed, and at night the place must have felt magical, especially to the rodents who would walk and cycle along the many raised pathways, travelling from viewing point to viewing point, to pools of hot and cold water and to larger pavilions spread about. The trio, carrying their gear, had to be careful as they walked. There were stepping stones set out for larger mammals, but a glass bridge would sometimes cut across the path, or they’d be led over a reflecting pool, multiple tiny waterfalls pouring in on either side.

While the intended rodent visitors could walk along sweeping promenades behind the cascades, marvelling at the distortions and reflections of the lights and artwork above, the highest waterfalls only ever came up to Ash’s waist. He and other others briefly appreciated it before carrying on, ever searching the great maze for their prey.

“Sorry, Ash. No music here.”

“I know,” he said, rolling his eyes slightly.

“The only sound I want to hear is the sound of silence…”

Ash nodded, before there was a slightly clatter as he changed the tapes and pressed play.

_ ‘Hello Darkness my old friend… I’ve come to talk to you again…’ _

Mr Fox looked back just as a smug looking Ash pressed stop and packed away his recorder. He smiled though, before giving him a wink and then turning, carrying on.

It was still an awkward trip and not only due to the small obstacles. They were often brushing vines and creepers out of their path, or having one of them hold up a fern frond. These weren’t small fry, some were the best part of ten metres long, the sub fronds, breaking off at right angles from the stalk that came from the centre, longer than even Mr Fox. Carrying on, Ash watched dutifully as his father lifted one of the larger ones up, letting him and Kylie through. Passing under it, he watched his father let go with one paw, playing about with the fern with his other one as a show of strength before deftly releasing it.

They’d been trooping for a while now and had found themselves at a large round pool. Up above, the canopy opened up, two sky tram lines crossing each other right over the centre. Around the edges, clean steps had been made of stone, different types and colours going up in irregularly tiered steps, surrounding the shallow water, itself filled with a thick collection of mossy stones. Overlooking all of it, built upon a raised rock, was a stunning white pavilion. Rectangular, but with different levels, wide terraces, and large triangular fabric rain shields up above, it looked like something from the future.

And it was an absolute mess.

Brown and grey streaks covered all of the crystal white surfaces, while pile of sticks were arranged haphazardly onto it.

“The devastation of the goose reveals itself,” Mr Fox grandiosely announced, before pushing forwards, hopping over the mossy pond stones with a deft agility. Kylie began awkwardly following him, nervously traversing across the rocks, slipping and losing his balance here and there, ending up with paws in the water. Huffing, he went onto all fours, picking his way to the other side with the odd errant wobble or a panicked slip.

Finally, though, he made it, spotting Mr Fox and Ash there waiting for him. He paused, blinking a few times at the younger fox. “How did you…?”

“I went around the side,” he said, nonchalantly.

Mr Fox let out a smirk. "It’s a rather creative and different solution when you think about it,” he said, pausing as he heard give a slight guffaw. Though he didn’t show it, he realised with a slight worry that he’d use that word that his son  _ really _ hated, but it seemed like he’d use it in a good way. Excellent! Brushing that to the side, he and the others turned, ready to assess the scale of the devastation.

It wasn’t pretty.

Along with the terrible staining and damage done to the pavilion on the outside, there was a big crack along the roof. Ash walked forwards and examined it slightly, pushing up and down, watching as it widened and narrowed. He paused slightly, looking closer at the edge. “It seems they made this out of acrylic,” he observed, checking over much of the rest of the structure and making the same conclusion. “I built stuff out of that at school,” he said, before looking over at another area. “They used a glue gun here to put the sheets together.”

“Right,” Mr Fox said, looking down at it. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t goose proof. There’s likely thousands of other rodent sized structures across our fair city, just as susceptible as this!” He leant down, giving it a few sniffs, before tracking along the edge of the pool. Ash gave a few sniffs too, turning down to the floor and giving it a good few more, his ears folding back slightly. “Think I've got it,” he muttered, before following on. Kylie, bringing up the rear, tagged along after.

“Mind that dodgy stone,” Mr Fox warned from the front.

“What stone?” the pair in behind him asked as they stepped forwards. Ash’s foot touched down onto one of the stone slabs and he shook as it tilted up slightly, throwing Kylie off balance. Hopping back on one foot, his back bent back and he was left flailing about in panic, about to fall into the rocks again. “Wooooaaaahhhh. Don’t move!” he warned, looking at Ash, the young fox immediately rooting himself in place. One foot was still pushing down on the stone, but a slight change might throw the opossum over the knife's edge and into the water.

Again.

“Hang on a minute lads,” Mr Fox said, casually returning to the scene. “I’ve got a great idea.” He held out a paw, which Kylie grabbed, letting Mr Fox pull him back onto steady ground. “That stone,” he said, pointing down to the floor before tutting. “Dodgy mortar, bad build quality, these rodents aren’t the best builders.”

“Quite,” Kylie remarked, as he brushed himself off. “Someone could get hurt here.”

“They probably will,” Mr Fox remarked, as he turned and sauntered away, back on the goose trail. “Not us though.”

He leapt into the undergrowth, the other two following him. Ash, slightly nervous, spoke up as he went. “You know, I heard that most rodent buildings are 3D printed now…”

.

.

…

Further along, Mr Fox paused as they came to another water feature. It was a stream, culverted and routed through a rectangular, jet black polished basalt channel, the odd waterfall built in here and there. It bubbled out at the top, flowing gently down, ankle deep to the foxes, before filtering into a mass of gravel. The feature here would have been the underwater glass tunnel that zig-zagged up, giving visitors a chance to see the water flowing above. Now, though, water flowed out of the entrance, part of the tunnel broken and both water and silt flowing in. “Evidently the trail of destruction continues,” Mr Fox said, as he found the cracked panel where the water was getting in.

Kylie came up next to him, peeking inside the ruined walkway. “There’s a lot of sand in there,” he said. “You’d need a lot of mice and a lot of shovels.”

Ash nodded along, before pausing. In some areas of the channel thick water weeds grew, pulled back with the current and gently swinging in the underwater breeze. Those areas around the damage though had been stripped bare. “I think that the geese liked this stuff,” he said before glancing around. He saw some broken ferns near a large area of damage and leant over, giving a sniff. He then noticed a bit of water weed on the grass and picked it up, giving it a sniff before studying the ruined ground. “I think our goose got out here,” he said, a rising excitement growing in him. He looked over to his father, before pausing as he saw him looking at a different area.

“Nice theory, but critically flawed. You see, this area has plenty of tell-tale clues and hints, though you’d need to be a seasoned tracker to get them, so no worries there.”

Ash paused, before closing his eyes and taking a calming breath in. It was disappointing, yes, but he had to remember that his father had years of experience, while this was his first go. He wasn’t here to be the hero, he was here to learn. “What clues are they?” he asked, as he made his way back over.

“Well,” Mr Fox eagerly began, as he leant down. “There’s the fresh scent, for a start, showing his or her recent appearance. You can also see the damage to the undergrowth, broken ferns with a fresh scent. Then there’s the claw marks on the sides of the stones near the bank, from pulling itself out, and both the bit of weed and droppings left further up.” Mr Fox stood up tall, looking out at the path the bird had made as it had waddled away. He smiled, gave a double whistle, before clicking his tongue two times. He was close now, the game was on, and he was enjoying this.

“Uh, Dad?”

Pausing, he looked over to Ash. “Yes?”

“My place had the same thing,” he said pointing over to it, a confused look on his face. Pausing, Mr Fox made his way over at checked it, his eyes widening and a proud smile growing on his face. He turned to Ash proudly. “Son, you just found the exit point of goose number two,” he said, planting a paw on his shoulder. “You’re a tracker.”

The younger fox blinked a few times, before a wide smile grew on his muzzle. “Yup,” he said proudly, his happy voice understating the mix of emotions he felt.

His father nodded, before looking over at Kylie. “Keep an eye on him and help him out.”

The Opossum blinked a few times. “What, me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I’m not very well versed in kit care, and…”

“Just follow his lead and make sure he doesn’t do anything dangerous,” Mr Fox said, before he leant down and began tracing the goose he’d found, leaving Ash and Kylie alone.

The former blinked a few times, before his eyes widened. “Hang on, I’m in charge! I’m a tracker!”

A big grin showing, he turned and tracked on, Kylie scooting after him. “I think it was more a partnership your father was planning -and-please-don’t-get-hurt-I’m-not-sure-I’m-ready-for-that-level-of-responsibility-yet...”

.

.

Nose to the ground, Ash pressed on. He could smell the scent of the goose getting ever stronger as he narrowed the gap. The signs of its presence were clearer and clearer as he pushed on. The odd dropping, or dropped bit of feather fluff, would litter the ground, while the plant life would be bent or torn here and there. Moving on, he paused as the trail suddenly vanished at the edge of a narrow chasm. A stream ran beneath them, a mini-sky tram giving a tour of the whole thing to anyone who wanted it. The goose trail, though, stopped.

His tail drooping down, Ash sighed, pausing as he tried to think about what to do.

“He used his wings here,” Kylie said.

Ash’s eyes narrowed a little. “You know, I was thinking he pogo sticked across, but the wing thing makes a lot more sense.”

Kylie opened his mouth to speak, but he cut himself off as Ash leant down. The young fox gave the ground a good few sniffs, then stood up. “It’s more the damage you can smell than the goose,” he said, as he sniffed around. “I can’t smell anything, so he might have gone down wind.” He checked with his finger, then pointed to their right. “I’ll go that way, you the other. Meet in five?”

“I… -That sounds okay,” the opossum said, as Ash marched off. Kylie began in the other direction, not sure about it all. He kept an eye on the other side, but had to pull his tail around for a quick pet to stay his nerves. “Nothing’s going to happen to him. Nothing…”

He smashed into a metal post in front of him, his instincts almost doing their thing, though he was able to keep them at bay. Instead he fell back on his tail with a jolt before looking up at the barrier in front of him. “Okay… Edge of the property. Not electric, which is nice…” He stood up and then went back in Ash's direction, hoping to catch him up.

Meanwhile, the young Fox carried on, sniffing the air and glancing at the other side of the bank as he went. He paused as he saw an area of broken vegetation and, walking a bit further down, he sniffed the air. Freshly broken plants, the scent of goose, and…

He frowned as he smelt something decidedly unexpected and, turning into the forest, he followed it away from the river. Just as he went, Kylie jogged up to it, his eyes widening as he saw the path on the other side. With a big run up, he leaped over the gorge, following both the goose and the presumed pursuing fox.

The fox, meanwhile, followed the odd scent to the edge of a swamp like area. Sitting down, he took in the odd vines, ferns, and even some fat, pot bellied pitcher plants that were lying around, in particular one pitcher right next to him. He tapped it a few times and a mouse popped out, resting over the ribbed red lip.

The very same mouse who’d protested at them at the start.

“What are you doing in there?” he asked.

She frowned. “I’m stopping you from murdering a harmless creature!”

He blinked a few times. “It looks like you’re being eaten.”

“Huh?”

“You’re in a plant that eat things,” he said, before pausing, his head tilting to the side. “Is this a weird sex thing?”

“What!?”

“-I’m not judging,” he began, his head tilting down and away as he scratched its back lightly. “Can’t really…”

“No! It’s not, why would you think that?”

He looked up at her. “You are in a thing that’s slowly eating you.”

She frowned. “I’m not being eaten!”

“Do you want me to help you out?”

“I’m good, I’m…”

“It’s just that I don’t want to leave you stuck here to be eaten by the plant.”

“I’m not going to be eaten!”

“Right,” he grunted. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone.”

“Yes,” she scolded, “you do that.”

“Just trying to help,” he said, before he then turned to her, used his finger to push her back down into her hiding spot, and then marched off, returning to the river.

“Tchhh,” the voice from inside went. “I’ll stop you yet!” There was a light scrabbling and splashing from inside the pitcher, the plant shaking about a bit, before the mammal inside paused.

“Uh…..”

…

“Um…”

.

.

...

“Cuss.”

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.

.

Ash soon found the place where the goose had crossed and paused as he picked an opossum’s scent. “Kylie?”

He paused, as he heard the mammal call back. “You’re back there?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll come over.”

“That sounds…” Kylie began, before he screamed out. Ash flinched back as his scared and pained call rang out, alongside a set of bellowing honks and hisses.

Then, silence.

Ash looked around fearfully, taking a step back before pausing, closing his eyes. A breath in. A breath out. He ran forward, leaping the gap and charging into the forest. Down on all fours, subtlety or stealth abandoned, he raced along the scent trail, the smell of opossum getting stronger and stronger. “Kylie!?”

He broke into a clearing and ground to a halt, rearing back onto his hind legs and flinching away at the sight in front of him. His father’s partner was laying there rigid on the ground, blank dead eyes staring out. His clothes and gear were on the ground, amidst a small scattering of black, grey and white feathers.

“Oh cuss,” he said, trembling slightly. Glancing around for any trouble, leaning down with claws poised and ready, he took tentative step after tentative step towards Kylie. Leaning down carefully, he pulled out the opossum's air rifle and held it tight. He grabbed a box of the pellets and, taking one, he loaded up the gun. Stepping away slowly, he gave his former partner one last look before walking off, then running, fear etched on his muzzle. This wasn’t supposed to be dangerous! It wasn’t! It was just a goose, but it had killed someone. Was that even possible?

It must have been.

He needed to get back to the front, call the police or someone, and then get his father out of there.

He just had to keep running though. Cutting through a new section of the undergrowth, heading on the straightest line back to the lobby. He grit his teeth as he noticed some rustling to his right. He was almost at the ravine, but the attacker was getting closer and closer and closer and he pulled up his gun just as it burst out and…

He slammed the attacking goose with the butt of his rifle, before his body went stiff as he saw what was lying on the floor.

It wasn’t a goose.

It was Kylie, the opossum looking as dead eyed and stiff as before.

“What!?” he gasped, deep breaths coming in and out. He trembled slightly, going down onto his knees as he looked over the moved body, before blinking a few times with realisation. 

“Oh cuss,” he almost laughed, before slapping his head. He chuckled a few times in relief, before his ears rose as a new rustling came from a different side. A defiant look on his muzzle, he raised the gun. “Friend or foe?”

The grasses parted and out stepped his father. “I think that depends on your grades,” he said, Ash guffawing slightly as Mr Fox went over to prod Kylie. “You know, it’s been a while since you did this.”

“Bar the first time today,” Ash replied, pausing as his father turned to him, curiously. “I heard the goose attack him, found him and forgot about the opossum thing,” he said, before looking away guiltily. “I just grabbed his gun and tried to get back to the front…”

“Ash…”

“-I thought I could get help,” he explained, suddenly choking up a little. He shook his head and turned away from his father. “I’m sorry. I thought the goose did that and…”

“Hey,” Mr Fox said, walking forwards and planting a paw on his shoulder. The younger fox flinched a bit, but paused as he was turned around and brought into a hug. “You did nothing wrong. You did good.”

Ash paused. “I didn’t mess up?”

“No,” Mr Fox said.

There was a slight rustle from behind them as Kylie recovered and spoke up. “What about when he clocked me?”

“Give the kit a break,” Mr Fox replied, pulling him up. “He thought you were a killer goose.”

The opossum brushed himself down. “Why couldn’t it have bumped into him?” he sighed. “At least he’s less shorter than it.”

“Sorry,” Ash sighed. “I bumped into that mouse protester again.” There was a slight pause, before he carried on. “I forgot geese were that big.”

“And angry,” Kylie remarked.

“And tasty,” Mr Fox remarked.

“I didn’t forget about that,” Ash said, smiling a little. After all that stress, he was feeling a lot better.

“Good,” Mr Fox replied. “Now let’s get him.”

“OH NO YOU DON’T!!!”

The trio paused, turning to see a very damp mouse on the other side of the ravine. She looked back at them, before frowning as she looked at Ash. “You left me to be eaten!"

He frowned back. “No I didn’t!!!”

“I was almost eaten because of you!”

Ash gritted his teeth and shouted. “You literally said you were fine. Go away!”

“No,” she said defiantly. “I’m here to save those innocent geese and…”

She trailed off, as did the others, as the undergrowth behind her rustled and cracked. Then, out of it, waddled a goose. Covered in grey and black feathers, with beady black eyes on a head raised up on a long thin neck, it was almost as tall as Ash. Were it to stand up it would be taller than Mr Fox, and much larger if its wings were spread out either side of its stocky body.

In a paw to beak fight, there was a good chance it could cause serious damage to the three hunters, while it truly dwarfed the little mouse trying to defend it. “See,” she said, walking up to it. “It’s an innocent and perfectly harmless…”

She was cut off as it reached down and clamped her head with its beak and lifted her up, fighting and screaming and begging as she went. She flailed about desperately and pleaded for help, but it was no use. Pulling its mouth up, the goose opened it up and let her fall down further, before repeating the manoeuvre as she slipped in.

An innocent looking swallow, and an odd bob of its head, and she was gone.

And then a blur of red was on it, leaping over the gap and diving straight for its throat. Tackled to the ground, thrashing and honking with wings flapping and a red tail up and rustling, the fight was over in seconds.

Both Kylie and Ash looked on gawking as Mr Fox stood over the decapitated body, pulling out the mouse with his fingers. She stood there as still and shocked as Kylie had been, the odd blink the only thing suggesting she was alive.

Mr Fox looked down at her and smiled a massive toothy grin, before pausing as he pulled out an errant feather that was stuck in there. “Now that  _ really _ takes me back,” he commented, before giving a double whistle and two clicks of his tongue.

Ash, still in shock, brought his cassette player out, put a new one in, and fast forwarded by just over a minute.

_ ‘We gotta get outta this place, if it’s the last thing we ever do… _

_ We gotta get outta this place. Girl, there’s a better life for me and you…” _

.

.

It turned out that Mr Fox had already dealt with the other goose, picking it off with his air rifle but not getting the chance to inspect it before he’d heard the screams. He’d then abandoned it, racing off in a blind panic, which thankfully melted away when he’d heard his son laughing.

So, after he and Ash had carried their goose back to the entrance, with Kylie tagging on behind with the mouse, they went over to retrieve number two and the clutch of eggs that had been left. There were five, and they weren’t warm, showing that the geese hadn’t started to incubate them yet and thus they were fine for consumption, much to the relief of the opossum.

Gathering it all up, they turned and left, checking back in at the front, Ash’s recorder playing out as they went.

The mouse had been taken off for treatment, she had a few broken bones and some minor chemical burns from the digestive fluids of both  _ Branta Canadensis _ and  _ Nepenthes Rajah _ , though the majority of lasting damage would likely be psychological.

Seeing Kylie go off on his own with his eggs, and Ash in the sidecar with the geese, Mr Fox turned back to the owner of the club, briefly explaining the damage the geese had done and the faulty stone. He paused, though, as the tiny mammal began chuckling. “Is this despair induced insanity coming on?” he asked. “I know some guys and girls who can help with that.”

The mouse shook his head. “No, no,” he assuaged. “It’s just that the rich shrew who previously had exclusive use over those gardens… -doesn’t, anymore. Cancelled his booking, too late to get a refund, and said I could do what I want with it.”

Mr Fox looked on and nodded. “Now there’s a potentially tale with a lot of drama and excitement in it.”

“It’s probably about as boring as tax law,” the mouse rebuked, chuckling some more. “Anyway, what with the trashing of the small mammal features, I think I’ll open it up to larger mammals now. Thanks for dealing with my pest problem by the way!”

“Always a pleasure to deal with a loose goose.”

“Not the kind of pest I was talking about,” the mouse replied as he walked back in, not seeing the slightly unnerved expression on Mr Fox’s muzzle. “But thanks regardless.”

“Thanks,” Mr Fox replied, before turning around and walking back to his bike. “Now there’s a mouse with a slightly low regard for mammal life if I’ve seen one,” he remarked, as he started it up, pausing as the engine coughed and spluttered, a thick cloud of smoke belching out of the tailpipe. “Goggles!” He looked down, checking the Ash was ready to go, before he set off.

.

Not long later, they pulled up to a mechanics store, all sorts of bits and pieces and old military equipment sitting inside. Walking in, he settled down, pressing the button and waiting before a swift fox vixen walked out. Dressed in her grease stained overalls, Skye glanced up and smiled as she saw him. “Hello Freddy,” she greeted, before pausing as she saw the bike. “Which part now?”

“Carburettor.”

She replied with a quick nod. “On it.” Off she went into the back of the shop, rustling around, all while talking as she worked. “How’s Felicity?”

“Oh, she’s positively radiant,” he replied. “In fact, I’ll tell her to call tonight."

"Bit busy tonight," Skye said.

"Work?"

"Date, actually," the vixen noted.

Mr Fox's eyes raised a bit and he nodded. He knew she wouldn't enjoy being pressed further, so he left it at that. "I'll tell her to phone tomorrow then, it'll help build the surprise.”

"Surprise?"

"She may or may not have one."

“Oh really?” she replied. “I… -AH-HA!” There was a light clattering, before she walked out, part in paws. “This should keep your old girl going for a good while.”

“Are you sure you know my wife?” he asked. “That’s really not her thing.”

She gave him a mirthful look, before grabbing her tools and exiting the counter area. “Anyway,” she carried on. “We recently had some updates from Sweetie, which I’m pretty sure is her thing.”

Mr Fox nodded. “How is your little sister, by the way?”

“Same old, same old,” she replied, waving it off as they exited the office. She paused though as she saw the bike. “It’ll be easier if you two just leave me alone to get on with it,” she said.

Mr Fox nodded, though his mind was on different things. Looking over, he saw his son sat in the sidecar, ears drooping down and his muzzle lowered to the ground, no strength or energy in his body. He looked defeated, and sad, and, though he didn’t show it, the older fox felt some worry. He walked forwards, tapping him on the shoulder and asking him to come inside with him while Skye got to work.

In they went, sitting down. Ash was silent throughout.

Mr Fox, for once, had a tongue that was locked up, his mind trying to work out what to say. What to do. How not to mess up. Hunting pests, predators and birds that could kill him were things he could do without thought, things that got his blood pumping and excitement racing through him, things that he lived for and could do on instinct. Yet his son, slumped down and sorry for himself for some unknown reason…

Well, it was a thing he could screw up on.

A thing he  _ had  _ screwed up on. This felt like an awkward moment, one made awkwarder given the note he had in his phone case and the knowledge he had to share. Normally he’d try to joke or spin it, but the last time he’d tried to do that…

The last time was when his nephew’s entry into a comic competition had got his son’s creation, which had previously got on, booted off. He’d tried to joke out of the awkwardness, saying that maybe the surprise celebrations should be moved over to Kris. It was just his way of trying to break the ice, move on from the frigid tension, yet unknown to him it had cracked and shattered his son. It almost made him lose him, were it not for the actions of a dear friend.

He hadn’t known then how much that comic, and the work and effort and graft put into it, had meant for his boy. After that whole event, he began to realise that there was a lot, deep down, he didn’t know about him. He would fume and grump, yet sometimes his eyes would light up with joy, and now…

Well…

“Is everything okay, Ash?”

…

“Ash?”

“You were right,” he said, making Mr Fox pause. “I’m… I’m not cut out to be ranger material. I…”

“You did good today.”

There was a pause, Ash blinking a few times, before he looked up at him. “What… How…?”

“Well, there’s the expert tracking for a start, which, while it could still do with a lot of experience, shows that you’re well ahead of the curve for a beginner. Finding and following that second trail shows you have a keen eye and nose. You weren’t falling over, or getting lost, or making a fool of yourself. Your animal instincts were on point there, son.” He leant down, patting him on the back. “Pure wild animal instincts. You have them, kit.”

Ash looked up at him, blinking a few times with a mix of wonder and awe on his face, before he shook his head and looked away. “Yeah… -but… I got scared.”

“So?”

“I ran away!” he said, his voice raising. “I ran and fled, and was scared…” He paused, breathing in and out. “Your instincts were right, back at therapy, I… You said you couldn’t see me as a ranger, and…” There was a huff. “I’m not.”

“Ash,” Mr Fox began. “Do you know why I didn't invite you on my jobs previously… -and did invite Kris? Scratch that, you probably do, and you’re probably a little right and a little wrong. Let me tell you. You were smaller, and weaker, and ungainly, yes. You could be rash and make the wrong decisions. Things Kris weren’t and didn't. Being a hunter or a ranger of whatever, you have to rely on your instincts. Make the right decisions in a blink of an eye…”

“Which I didn’t do…”

“Which you did perfectly,” Mr Fox replied, as he held Ash’s paw. The young fox looked up at him, his head tilting slightly as he did so. “Yes, you ran. You saw your friend dead when you were meant to be after a fairly harmless goose; faking death, yes, but you weren’t to know that. So, you thought you had a killer goose on the loose? Well done, you saw what was going on and you changed your plans! You were scared? If there’s something big and bad out there, yeah, I’d be scared too.”

“You…? Scared?” Ash asked, slightly out of disbelief.

“Don’t go spreading about the news,” Mr Fox said, “but I got scared plenty of times. I ran, plenty of times. I hid, plenty of times. So did your mother. So did Skye’s sister, and all the other rangers… Out there, you were a wild animal, both pred and prey. You needed both, you needed to call your shots and know when you were outmatched. When it was best to stand your ground, or hide or, as you did, grab a weapon and retreat to a safe place.”

“So… I didn’t mess up?”

“No.”

“What if I’d of grabbed the gun and stayed there?”

“Also not messing up,” Mr Fox replied. “There are plenty of ways not to mess up. As for messing up, curling into a crying ball was the main one. Did you do that?”

Ash chuckled lightly. “No. I did sock Kylie though.”

Mr Fox laughed. “And it was an excellent sock. Brilliant for a first timer. You made the right call there, as you did when I came in.” He paused, closing his eyes and breathing in and out. “Ash. I was wrong back then, at therapy and before. It’ll need some practice, lots of it. Never splitting up and keeping in your teams too. Especially never telling your mother about the whole ‘dead Kylie’ and mouse eating thing. But you weren’t an ungainly scared noise machine, were you? Ash, you were a good tracker and ranger back there. I’m proud of you.”

Mr Fox could help but smile as his son’s face lit up with pride. “I… I…” He paused, before just smiling and nodding proudly.

“There we go.”

Ash turned away, before shaking his head, a sigh coming out. A sad sigh. Mr Fox turned, suddenly concerned again, as he spoke out. “Thanks,” he said. “I… I do like the idea of being a ranger, but… -But it’s not that whole one-hundred percent thing anymore. Sixty-seventy…”

“Like being an athlete?”

“I am an athlete,” Ash replied, a little more assertively. “Just… Just not a very good one. Kris is better.”

“What about shooting? You might be a good shot.”

“I… -I might be,” he pondered. He shook his head again. “You know, it’s silly. I… I don’t know what I want to be. There’s all these different things mixing about, and they’re all opposite to each other. I could be a ranger, or maybe a cop, but I’m also a comic book artist. I love music and mixing it, but I’m learning sign language. I was thinking about psychology a bit, but that’s about the opposite to being a marksmammal.” He looked over his shoulder, noticing Skye at work in her element, putting together the bike engine again. “All these different things I’m sort of good at and I’m juggling them around. But they all clash with each other, take time from each other, and I feel I won’t become great at them unless I commit. But which do I commit to?” He sighed. “After all, I’m not great… -I feel I’m not fantastic at any of them."

Mr Fox paused, before smiling. Remembering the little note in his phone case, he knew that his son had laid the perfect little path for him to follow. Time to be fantastic. “Ash,” he said. “You can be good at all of those things,” he said, hugging him slightly. There was a little resistance, as expected from a teenager, but it soon faded. “Great at them. Fantastic! A ranger using sign language to signal to his crew that a dangerous eagle is tracking them, and then using his experiences to help his comic book stories! A great marksman too, with enough practice. Or there’s the police force, where a bit of psychology could get you out of some sticky situations. Ash, you can be fantastic at all of those things, both separately and at the same time. It is quite possible, don’t you know? Surely, you’ve seen it in action with a certain Tod of the house, hmmm? You can be a fantastic tracker, a fantastic ranger, a fantastic artist, a fantastic marksmammal, a fantastic cop, a fantastic shrink and most definitely a fantastic big brother.”

“Yeah,” Ash said. “Thanks, I…”

…

Mr Fox smiled as his son paused, blinking a few times before looking up at him, confused.

…

“You did just say,” he began, each word said slowly, carefully, tenderly, as if on thin ice. “What you just said... -didn’t, you…?”

Mr Fox nodded. “I did, Ash. We learnt about it not that long ago… Unfortunately the same day the nighthowler warning went out, but that’s your mother and timing for you. You’re going to be a big brother, Ash. There’s going to be a little Tod…”

“Or Vixen.”

“Or Vixen,” he agreed, “who’ll look up to you… How do you feel? Feel good?”

Ash was silent for a few seconds, stuck in thought, as a light smile grew across his muzzle. “I don’t really know,” he said. “But I’m looking forwards to it. I… -I think I do know how I feel now.”

“Oh,” Mr Fox said, “and how’s that?”

Ash looked back at him proudly. “I feel fantastic.”

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**AN: So, just like at the end of the film, Felicity is pregnant. Will it be a boy, or a girl, or might we get both? To answer that question, I used some dice rolls to work out how many (1-3:1 4-5:2 6: Do another roll for 3+) and what sex (Odd: boy. Even: girl). When will you find out? Not for a good while yet.**

**The first scene, with Mr and Mrs Fox, was the first thing I wrote in this series, more to try and pin down Mr Fox’s character than anything. I then came back to the rest of it after filling out the previous fics. It was fun worldbuilding the recreational area for rodents, with the jungle landscaping and artwork (the ability to bring people into new and wonderful worlds is one of the best things about writing, but setting it in an existing IP often limits your ability to do so), while I had great fun with hunting/ being hunted scenes.**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed this one-shot.**

**And tune in next time…**

**As the crossing over really begins. We’ll call it a date ;)**

**.**

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The proprietor of Flora and Fauna relaxed at his desk chair, his ears listening on as a fine recording of the  _ Barber of Seville _ played through his store. Not long until it would be time to close shop. Then he could enjoy some fine wine, a good cigar, and a hot bath. He had an awful lot on his plate, what with the investigation going on, and such things were the perfect recipe to help him calm down.

“Uh, hello?”

He paused, looking around.

“I, uh… Hello?”

Looking down, he smiled as he saw a nervous looking mouse below him. “Hi, uh… Do you…” she began, before her voice quietened down into an unrecognisable mumbling.

“Pardon me, but do you mind speaking up?”

“Do you have any…” she repeated, only to descend into mumbling again.

The pig sighed and leant down, his ear close to her as she spoke up, louder this time. “ _ Do you have any… uh… venus-fly-traps _ ?”

“Why yes, I…”

“-They’re for a friend!” she butted in loudly. “For a friend!”

The shopkeeper paused as she backed away a little, looking around here and there nervously. “I’ll check in the back,” she said, leaving her alone.

Her body was hot, flushed and embarrassed, while she felt slightly sick about herself right now. Still, no-one would ever know about her and…

She paused as she saw a shadow come around and, turning around, she saw a cheetah in a police officer's uniform. The little mouse gave a nervous chuckle and a wave. Hopefully she wouldn't…

The cheetah gave her a stink eye, and the mouse felt like she wanted to vanish into nothing.

She knew. She most definitely knew.


End file.
